


This Is A Secret Proposition (Lay Your Hands On Me)

by chlochloebear



Category: Breddy, TwoSet, Twosetviolin, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Dry Humping, M/M, Pining but in a sexual way, Playful Eddy, Plot? What Plot?, handjobs, intimacy problems, kinda drunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:54:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26061499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chlochloebear/pseuds/chlochloebear
Summary: “Dont,” Eddy warned as he gripped Brett’s hip with his hand. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you keep doing that.”“Then don’t.” Brett confidently responded, his hand guiding Eddy to his half unzipped pants. “As long as we’re in the dark, everything’s fair game.”
Relationships: Brett Yang/Eddy Chen, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 16
Kudos: 89





	This Is A Secret Proposition (Lay Your Hands On Me)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheFartingRabbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFartingRabbit/gifts).



“It looks like America, doesn’t it?” Eddy asked shyly. One shallow dimple, just fifteen degrees southwest of the corner of his mouth, revealed itself as his cheek muscles attempted to lock his jaw shut to prevent his sly little tongue from slipping out and licking his bottom lip. He was a geyser of desire and curiosity, full of steam and ready to erupt.

_ Be still, my heart.  _

His back muscles tensed as he propped himself with his left elbow, eyes trailing the slender forefinger that slowly traced the birthmark that stained the skin between his fourth and fifth rib. 

“Did you know that birthmarks are supposed to tell you how you died in your past life?” Brett whispered, causing Eddy’s breath to hitch when warm air came in contact with his exposed flesh. The younger recited a silent prayer to all the deities of the universe as he felt his heart squeeze a little harder, thump a little faster, and pound just a little louder than what was normal.

_ Be still, my heart. _

He cleared his throat as softly as he could, struggling to swallow whatever emotion it was that tried to claw its way out and throw itself towards Brett. Veins started to pop on his ruby neck as anxiety slowly travelled through his body. Intimacy wasn’t his strongest suit.

“Do you have one?” he asked, voice cracking like a pubescent boy.

“Yes,” Brett replied, removing his finger from Eddy’s body so he can unbutton his shirt. He discarded his white polo and turned his back on the younger to show him the burgundy colored mark three inches to the left of his spine. “It’s not as big as yours. Probably just the size of England. You can touch it too, if you like.”

Eddy hesitated at first, scared that his icy fingertips would reveal his predicament—how this activity simultaneously brought him torment and ecstasy. But he touched Brett, of course. He could not resist. Nothing about the older’s perfect nose, chiseled jaw, thin pink lips, feather like lashes that turn Eddy’s limbs into an uncoordinated mess whenever they flutter, could be challenged nor ignored by Eddy’s sense of self-preservation and will. When it came to matters that concerned Brett, Eddy was heart, mind, body, and soul, kneeling in submission. 

“I was told that I was betrayed in my past life,” Brett said, seemingly unconcerned as Eddy’s fingers brushed against his back. “I may have been stabbed in the back, literally and very deep, if I may add. Probably by someone I trusted.” Brett shifted his body so that he could face Eddy again. “I was told I can be quite oblivious.”

Eddy almost snorted at that. The goosebumps that formed on his skin every time he and Brett would accidentally brush against each other practically spelled-out all of his secrets, especially the dangerously graphic thoughts he had about the older’s veiny forearms and how it would look so beautiful around his neck. His longing for Brett was practically tattooed on his forehead in neon ink and big bold calligraphy. It also showed itself, more often than not, through his above average manhood that automatically stood in attention whenever Eddy catches a whiff of Brett’s perfume. 

There was nothing else in the world that could ignite a fire in Eddy’s loins aside from Brett. He wanted nothing more than to be intimate, but not  _ that _ intimate.

“What, or should I say who, do you reckon killed you?” Brett asked as he replaced his touch on Eddy’s chest. His palm rested lightly on the latter, unmoving and oh so casual. It was no longer a mild case of burning sensation that Eddy felt. No. Satan and his little demons have migrated into Eddy’s insides, setting his biological thermostat to match the temperature in the eight circle of hell.

_ I said be still my bloody fucking heart. _

“Probably you.”   
  


“What?”   
  


“I said probably something similar to your story. I can be quite vulnerable, you know?” Eddy wanted to stick his violin bow up his nostrils and scrape his brain out of his skull for giving such a pathetic cover-up. If Brett bought it then he was sure the older either did not have his prefrontal cortex develop properly or he needed an ear drum replacement, if that even existed.

“You, vulnerable? Oh please. You won’t last thirty minutes in any conversation that does not involve sex,” Brett snorted.

_ Oh you stupid, beautiful boy. _

“That’s not fair. I’m here. I’ve been here for—” he pretended to check his phone for the time, as if his mind wasn’t fully aware of just how many minutes he has wasted not making a move on the object of his affections. “—an hour and a half now. Half naked, cold and exposed while lying on such a humongous bed that’s practically screaming at me to use it. I still haven’t touched you, have I?”

_ Oh how I would love to, though. _

“That doesn’t count. It’s almost like incest,” Brett shook his head as he gave a strained laugh. He used his free hand to rub the back of his neck, carefully patting down the tiny little tendrils that stood at the thought of the younger pouncing—and possibly pounding— him.

“The operative word being ‘almost.’ Also not my kink, but hey, there’s always a first time for everything,” Eddy chuckled menacingly, every ‘ha’ carefully designed to mask the disappointment that ate at his insides. “Don’t look at me like that. I was just kidding. Unless…”

Brett slapped Eddy’s thigh.

_ Well fuck. _

“How did we end up here anyway?” Brett asked.

“Wine,” Eddy nodded his head to the finished bottle at the foot of the bed. “more wine,” he raised his eyebrows as he directed his gaze towards his bookshelves where more empty bottles of chardonnay were displayed. “And a power-cut.”

“Hmm,” Brett nodded in agreement before he shifted in his position. He folded his legs to his side as he scooted closer towards Eddy. Then, in a swift move, his head was right in front of Eddy, leaving just a few centimeters between them.

_ My, my. _

“Eddy,” Brett was too close for comfort, Eddy could practically taste the sweet burgundy liquid from his breath.

“Hmm?” he replied, careful not to make any movements that might scare Brett away. Proximity was good. Voluntarily adjusting one’s position to increase that proximity was better. 

Especially when tipsy. 

And hot.

Tipsy and hot was a good combination.

“What do you do when you have your prey cornered like this?”

Eddy shot Brett a disconcerted look. “Why do you make it sound like I’m a murderer?”

Brett moved back, much to Eddy’s dismay, and shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t seem to find the proper words for things.”   
  


“Ahh, you’d have to thank your fourth bottle for that. Spanish wine is quite the traitor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”   
  


“Oh so there’s a next time?”

“Of course there’s a next time. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

_ I’d like to fuck your brains out, but sure. _

“No shit, Sherlock. Pass me that bottle,” Eddy had a feeling things were starting to go downhill, and so he needed to take a swig of alcohol, fast.

Brett handed Eddy a quarter-full bottle of moscato and watched as the latter finished the entire thing in just a couple of gulps. He retook his previous position as soon as Eddy placed the empty drink on the floor.

“Jeez, why’d you have to be so close?” Eddy quizzed, more out of curiosity than actual annoyance. He could see the constellation of beauty marks that adorned Brett’s face at that angle. Every single one of them, obsidian tainted rimmed with umber; they give the boy’s porcelain skin more character. Somewhat an imperfection,  _ definitely _ an imperfection. Whoever molded Brett into the man that he is, probably thought about giving him sprinkles of blemishes here and there to ensure fairness among mortals.

“I can’t see you properly”

“That’s because you’re not wearing your glasses, mate.” Eddy chuckled.

Brett shrugged. “Huh, not important. I can see you fine this close.”

“You are aware that your nose is already brushing mine, right?”

“No homo,”

_ All homo. What the fuck, bro. _

“What were you asking again?” Eddy segwayed.

“I asked what do you do when you have your prey cornered like this?”

_ Prey? _

“You hurt my feelings sometimes, Brett Yang.”  _ Often _ , he wanted to say. But Eddy wasn’t quite ready to have that conversation. Eddy wasn’t sure he’ll ever be ready to have that conversation because what even came after a confession? Rejection? Acceptance? Sex? Sex but with  _ feelings _ ? It was the uncertainty of it all that Eddy loathed. It was the thought of revealing all his cards to another, just to have that person have full control over him. It was emotional suicide, and Eddy wasn’t a fan of emotions nor was he keen on anything that involved pain. Unless it was something that came with moans and groans—and maybe some rope thrown into the equation—of course.

“I’ve known you since before you had hair growing out of your armpits, Eddy. I know you don’t have feelings.”

Eddy brought his palm to his chest. “You wound me.”

“And you keep dodging my question,” Brett poked Eddy’s arm with his forefinger. 

“Why do you want to know anyway? Do you think about me that way?”

_ Say yes. _

Brett shook his head fiercely. “The last thing on my mind is you, naked, dangling your dingding in front of me. I’m merely curious.”

“Why?” Eddy’s eyebrows furrowed. Brett wasn’t a curious lad. He was the type who never really thought about how or why the world worked a certain way. He just took things as they were and moved on with his life. Another imperfection. The gods were fair—maybe really fickle and jealous, most probably that— creatures, weren’t they? 

“What do you mean why? I’m just curious.” Brett moved back, supporting his entire upper body with arms that he placed behind his back.

“Why?” Eddy moved forward, his eyes dancing with hope that the night was still salvageable. His mind was on the brink of falling into a rabbit hole made of linen that carried Brett’s scent; where winds howled in baritone—erotically, might he add—and rivers glistened milky white. It wasn’t an entirely enticing world, no, but it was what has brought Eddy into a state of euphoria for the past four years. 

“Just you know, tips.” Brett avoided Eddy’s stare by shifting his gaze to the shelves that were bolted to the wall beside the bed.

“Tips?” Eddy, still unconvinced, skillfully shifted his body to a position where he towered over Brett; intentionally occupying the older’s personal space.

“Yeah,”

“I see,” Eddy smirked. He was now looking at Brett from above, causing the latter to strain his neck just to meet his gaze. The other’s eyes looked even more perfect from Eddy’s current point of view. They were like black holes that lured him in; not the only holes he wanted to explore but that was a thought he’d have to shelf for the time being. “How do you want me to go about this?”

_ Boy, oh boy. _

“You have free reign,” Brett’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed, Eddy noted. “This is your territory after all.”

The younger stared at Brett’s eyes with such intensity that the latter was caught aback when he suddenly charged forward, abruptly turning to the side just before his lips came in contact with Brett’s cheek. “I can show you better than I can tell you,” Eddy whispered in his ear. 

“Then show me,” Brett responded in hushed tones, his breath grazing Eddy’s scapula.

_ Oh lala. Is this an invitation to fuck, Brett Yang? _

Eddy felt queasy as he felt almost all of the blood from his head travel rapidly to his other head, his boxers instantly turning into a sauna that was far too muggy and far too tiny for his poor, poor winkle. He felt feverish for most parts of his body, except for his limbs where he felt like he was about to strike-out with hypothermia. Thoughts. He needed to form coherent thoughts. 

“Can I touch you?” Eddy asked, his right hand dangling awkwardly at his side while anticipating Brett’s response. 

“Do you do that with the others?”

“What?”

“Ask for consent for every move you make. Do you do that?” Brett inquired, his stare accidentally falling on a violin hickey below Eddy’s left ear. He timidly brought his fingers onto the younger’s neck, unintentionally grazing Eddy’s pecs in the process. “Purple looks pretty on you.”

Eddy used his forefinger to draw a line on Brett’s forearms, up his shoulders, stopping quickly on a bruise that resembled that of Eddy’s, before settling on the older’s chin. “Right back at you.”

Brett looked at Eddy briefly, giving a slight smile and a nod of appreciation before turning his attention back to Eddy’s neck. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

Sirens rang inside Eddy’s mind. They sounded soft, almost muffled, but they were there. The situation was getting closer to Eddy’s intimacy limit, and farther away from any possibility of an amatory exploit. There was a voice at the back of his mind, screaming at him to remove himself from the situation. Men and women have tried this modus on him before—a touch in exchange for a secret—but they never really worked. He was a smart lad, he knew when he was being tricked.

He was being tricked, alright. He knew that. But this was different.  _ This _ was different; it was Brett and his delicate hands that were touching him; it was Brett and his soothing voice that was coaxing a profession of honesty out of him; it was Brett and his dainty physique, clad only in khaki corduroy and practical grey Calvin Kleins, that was at his disposal.

Needless to say, he was utterly fucked.

“I don’t force myself on anyone,” he replied as he softly outlined Brett’s lips with his thumb. “Your lips are quite chapped.”

Brett hummed in response. His hand had left Eddy’s neck, and was now placed firmly on his side. “You have a small scar on the bottom of your mouth. Is that why you talk too much?”

Eddy gave a hearty chuckle as he moved his entire body down so that his eyes were on the same level as Brett’s. “And you have an inverted triangle blemish, almost star like, just right here,” his left hand held Brett’s neck as he let the tip of his nose touch the spot right below the older’s ear. “Is this the reason why you have trouble listening?”

Brett laughed as he pushed Eddy, causing the latter to lay on his back. “I know for a fact that this—” he straddled Eddy as he lifted the younger’s right arm to gain access to his triceps, “—was given to you by a certain someone whose name starts with T. It’s a long one, huh.”

“Pretty deep as well. I had to get stitches for that,” Eddy smiled at Brett as he rubbed the latter’s back with his calloused hand. “This,” he eyed Brett up and down, referring to their position, “is dangerous.”

“Why?”

_ Because I can do this. _

Eddy pulled Brett into his side, his torso coming in contact with the other’s bare back. He almost hissed when the evidence of his desire brushed just above Brett’s buttocks. He adjusted his body so that creamy flesh was still connected with sun-kissed one just from the waist up. He badly wanted to tangle his legs with Brett’s, to lock them in position and prevent the latter from ever leaving his bed. His side. His house. His life. He wanted to devour Brett from dusk to dawn for the rest of eternity. 

“This is the one that frightened me the most,” Brett stroked the vertical keloid on Eddy’s wrist. “I was scared you’d never be able to play again.” Brett pressed his cheek and lightly brushed his lips on the scar, “please never do anything stupid again.”

“I have cursed all the motorcycles in the world, don’t worry.” Eddy squeezed Brett’s arm in reassurance. “But you have to promise me no more fire dancing,” he placed his forehead on the spot just below Brett’s nape, his skin feeling a slight hollow on the latter’s flesh. 

“I promise.”

Eddy’s insides were ablazed. Brett allowed him to touch him, to explore his body with his fingers, with his nose, with the palm of his hands. He wanted to know just what was Brett’s limit. He was dying to know what would make Brett stand-up and leave.

“You can tell me to stop,” he whispered as he cautiously moved his right hand, starting with Brett’s neck. Hearing no protest and feeling no resistance, he brought his palms further down, stopping just shy of Brett’s right nipple. He looked at Brett’s face to check for any signs of regret or panic. He saw none. And so, he proceeded to tracing circles around the pink nub before flicking it twice, earning a soft moan from Brett.

  
  


“Is this how you do it?” his question coming out of his lips like a sigh. “Do you get them riled-up like this?”

“No,” Eddy responded as he placed his hand lower. He teased the skin that sat on top of the waistband of Brett’s pants. “I get them hot and bothered like this,” he licked Brett’s nape before gently nibbling the side of his neck. 

“Mmm…” Brett made such a delicious sound that Eddy almost lost his self-control. “You’re quite good at this,” he reached back to place his hand on Eddy’s upper thigh.

“I get a lot of practice,” Eddy cheekily replied as he popped the button of the other’s pants. He made a move to bring down Brett’s zipper, but he had to stop midway when he felt the latter’s body stiffen. 

“Eddy,” Brett mumbled.

_ Fuck. Please don’t tell me to stop. _

He gave Brett’s nape another lick before responding, “hmm?”

“I think I can feel your…” his voice trailed off. Brett slowly moved his hips back, causing his behind to come in contact with Eddy’s manhood. “Are you getting pleasure out of this?”

Eddy only had two ways to go about this: either he replied with a resounding yes or he gave a cheeky response. Naturally, he picked the latter.

“Aren’t you?” He used his left hand to tilt Brett’s head to the side so his tongue could play with the older’s ear. 

Brett bit his lip as he gave a restrained whimper. “Maybe,” he replied as he ground his derriere on the bump of Eddy’s boxers. “I might just give you a new scar.”

His loins were definitely on fire. It took everything in Eddy not to rock his hips to the rhythm of Brett’s. He was being played. Who fucking knew Brett was a deceitful bastard?

“Dont,” Eddy warned as he gripped Brett’s hip with his hand. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you keep doing that.”

“Then don’t.” Brett confidently responded, his hand guiding Eddy to his half unzipped pants. “As long as we’re in the dark, everything’s fair game.”

Eddy’s entire face turned crimson at what Brett just said. He was given permission to do unspeakable things to someone who had recently just insisted sex between them was forbidden territory. He was livid. He was confused. But more than that, he was so aroused he felt like his head would pop-off if he didn’t get any form of release any time soon.

“You better not give me blue balls, Brett Yang.” Eddy unzipped Brett’s pants and slipped his hand underneath the other’s boxers. Both of them shuddered at the contact. Their hips were moving synchronously, breaths and moans being let-out at the exact same time. The lack of penetration was frustrating Eddy out of his wits, but he was nearing his climax and it felt unnecessary to strip both of themselves naked and ride each other into oblivion.

He was close, so very close.

And then, the lights came on.

Brett stopped his ministrations and pulled Eddy’s hand from his underwear.

“Time’s up, loverboy. Thanks for the lesson.”


End file.
